~ Fred ~
He's sitting in the back of the library, just trying to get his potions paper done, but he can't shake the feeling of eyes on him. He can feel them crawling all over, can feel his ears burning from people talking about him. He's caught a few people when he's looked up, but it's all been innocent enough. He's close to just heading back to his room with how uncomfortable this is all making him.
All he'd wanted was a productive space to work on his paper; if Evelyn were to show up, as she often does on Tuesdays, he wouldn't complain. But, no. She hasn't shown up, people are staring at him for some reason, and now he's just in a bad mood.
He's busy feeling overly sorry for himself when a fourth-year that he's never seen before walks up to him. She's blushing a bit already and he can see a group of girls her age behind her, all of them covering their giggling with their hands and watching avidly as their friend bravely does whatever she's about to do. He raises an amused eyebrow and leans back in his chair when she approaches him, looking even more embarrassed than she had a few seconds ago now that she has his full attention on her.
"Hi, Fred," she says with a timid wave.
He smiles confusedly. "Uh, hi?"
She fiddles her fingers together and crosses one of her feet over the other where she's standing, her body language oozing nervousness. "Um, my friends and I were wondering," there's more giggling from behind her. "Is it true?"
He frowns, completely stumped. "Is what true?"
Now it's her turn to frown. "That you have a girlfriend."
His frown deepens, his mouth partly popping open in confusion. "Um, what? Girlfriend?"
The girl nods, looking less and less confident after seeing his reaction. "Uh, yeah. From another school?"
He can't help but laugh, confusion still painting his face. "No, I'm afraid that that's not true. Where did you hear that from?" He's sure that it's just Ginny or George playing some stupid prank on him. He's going to kill whoever it was.
She scratches the back of her neck. "Um, well, I heard from Lindsey who heard from Sarah who heard from Peter who heard from... Jessica I think. And Jessica heard it from Angelina who says that that girl Evelyn told her. She was proper bummed, you know."
He can feel his entire face scrunch up in confusion, completely taken aback by what he's hearing.
Evelyn?
"Evelyn?" He repeats aloud. "But that doesn't-" he shakes his head at himself, sighing and reaching up to rub at his temples. "No, that's not true."
The girl is already taking a step back. "Oh. Well, sorry for bothering you." And then she's gone.
He sits there for a moment, just staring at the dark brown wood of the table in front of him. There's no way that Evelyn would have actually said that, right? That makes absolutely no sense. He's made it plenty obvious that he would do practically anything to be with her, and yet she's continuously turned him down. Which, it's fine. Really. He's dealing with it. But, this? What is he supposed to do with this? She's telling a girl that's interested in him that he has a girlfriend?
Now he's getting angry. She had no right. No one has a right to make up a lie about him, especially when rumors spread like fiendfyre at Hogwarts, but out of everyone, Evelyn especially has no right. She knows that he doesn't have a girlfriend because she makes that choice for him every day, and yet she wants to ruin his chances of finding someone who actually wants him. He doesn't particularly like Angelina, but that's not the point. It's the principle of it.
Before he even knows what he's doing, he's packing up his things and leaving the library, his steps quick and loud as he makes the journey to Ravenclaw. He's fuming; he can practically feel the smoke coming out of his ears.
He mutters things under his breath while he walks, angry at Evelyn for the first time in a while. It feels like the beginning of the year again, when anger was the only emotion that he let himself feel towards her. He'd thought that that was over.
He's knocking on her door before he even realizes that he's arrived, having quickly muttered the stolen password and rushed his way up the steps to the rooms.
He can hear shuffling around inside the room before there's a quick, "hang on!" coming from inside. He tries to keep his firm grip on the anger that he feels coursing through his veins, trying not to let the sound of her lovely voice calm him down any.
Before he knows it, the door is opening. Standing in the open doorway, with a look of shock in her face, is Evelyn, wearing only a towel wrapped loosely around her body, tighter now that she's pulled it closer around her body after she's seen who exactly is standing at the door.
"You're not Luna," she says through an embarrassed laugh.
He tries is very hardest not to look down, but he can't help it. There's just so much skin. Golden brown, soft, warm, skin. He trails his eyes back up and tries to shake himself out of it, but that only means that he's now looking at her fresh, makeup-less face and damp, darker hair that frames it.
He internally shakes his head at himself again. He's here for a reason. He's angry. It shouldn't matter that she's standing there in front of him nearly naked. He's seen it before, so it shouldn't affect him as much, right? Wrong, his brain tells him when he accidentally glances down again. It doesn't matter how many times he's seen it, or how he has every inch of her body intimately committed to memory already, he wants to see what's under her towel again.
"Um," he finally gets out, looking back to her impatient face. He harnesses his anger again, getting over the fact that he would do anything to have permission to rip her towel off of her. "Did you tell people that I have a girlfriend?"
Any embarrassment on her face quickly morphs into something much, much, guiltier. That's all the confirmation that he needs.
"Seriously, Evelyn?" he asks darkly and lets himself into her room, not particularly caring to have this conversation in the middle of the hallway, especially when she's composed of only bare skin and a thin towel. She takes a step away from him when he steps through the door, wordlessly letting him in and shutting the door behind him. "You had absolutely no right," he says angrily.
She wraps her towel tighter around herself and hangs her head, nodding shamefully. "I know, Fred. I'm so, so sorry. I don't know what was going through my head."
He nods in obvious agreement with her and prepares to yell at her some more, but she's already talking again.
"I regretted it the second I said it; I haven't stopped thinking about it since," she rambles on, leaving him to listen silently, his mouth still open. "I know that it was so wrong, Fred. I should have told her I was lying the second after the words left my mouth -- I shouldn't have said it at all, actually -- but she'd already left, and then she'd told people and then they told people and now I guess someone told you. I'm so sorry, Fred, just let me get dressed and I'll go fix it," she says and quickly disappears into her closet, an eager and apologetic look on her face.
He doesn't move from his spot while she changes, but his frown slowly deepens further into his face and his hand comes up to scratch over his jaw, his head buzzing. He's mad at her, he needs to properly go off on her. Yes, that's what he has to do. He's not just going to let her say it all for him.
She's popping out of the closet not even twenty seconds later, pulling a shirt down over her upper body while she exits the open door to match the light grey sweatpants that she'd put on. He's sure that she's purposefully trying to distract him with that glimpse of her simple black bra that she just gave him.
"I'll go tell her that I was just joking," she says quickly while rushing to her mirror to put her damp hair up. "I'll go tell her and I'll tell everyone else, I'm so sorry if this is like, messing up your reputation," she says, genuinely apologizing. "I know how important that is. I didn't mean for it to get to anyone else."
He tries to say something while she slides on her shoes, preparing to actually go make a fool of herself, but it's not until she's about to leave the room that he can finally get his voice to work. "Ev, wait."
She turns around in the open doorway, looking at him with an innocent, curious look. He takes a step towards her and reaches out to lightly tug on her wrist, pull her back into the room, and shut the door behind her, taking her by surprise. It results in them standing very close to one another.
When she raises a curious eyebrow, he rolls his eyes. "I don't care about that."
She frowns. "Then why..." she doesn't finish.
He sighs and rubs a hand over his eyes, pulling the skin of his cheeks downwards and over his chin. "Look, I- yes. I'm mad that you lied and got this rumor about me spread around the entire school." She looks down guiltily at that. "For multiple reasons. But," he reaches up to take her chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilts her head up to look at him. "That's not what I'm really stuck on."
Her frown hasn't left her face. "Then what?"
He sighs and removes his hand from her face. His fingers feel empty after, even though he'd only been caressing her chin. "Why did you do it, Ev?"
Silence.
She's looking down at her hands, picking at the skin around her nail and avoiding his eyes. "I don't- what do you mean?" she asks half-heartedly.
He takes a step towards her so that they're even closer, only inches apart now. If she were to look up at him, he knows that their lips would be a terribly tempting distance from each other.
"Why did you tell Angelina that I have a girlfriend? What led up to it?"
She doesn't look up at him yet, and it takes her a second before she mutters out an answer. "She said that she liked you and wanted to know if you'd said anything about her."
He feels that pesky spark of hope alight in his stomach. Evelyn told Angelina that he was taken when she'd asked about it. Even if Evelyn wasn't the one that she claimed he was taken by, he still can't help but take it as a win. She had to have been jealous, right? And jealousy comes from romantic feelings. Romantic feelings towards Fred.
Hang on, he came here to get mad at her; since when did anger morph into an eager warmth in the center of his stomach? Why does he feel endeared right now? Stupid, stupid, stupid unconditional love.
"Okay," he says patiently, not wanting to get too excited or, even worse, let her know about that excitement and its origins. He knows that she'd shut it down immediately. "So why did you tell her that I have a girlfriend when she asked that?"
This time the silence lasts longer. She shrugs, still not looking up at him and still silent.
He sighs and takes a second to gather his thoughts, trying to think of the best way to coax it out of her. He doesn't know what it is, but he assumes that it would be progress nonetheless, which is all he really wants. Evelyn has avoided this too much, he's desperate for any real communication about what she's feeling. He's been making too many shots in the dark recently, a man can only take so much before the insecurity takes over.
"Ev," he says softly. "Why did you tell her I have a girlfriend," he repeats, more of a statement than a question this time.
She finally looks up at him. They're close enough that he could count every single one of her perfect eyelashes if he pleased, could take a quick whiff of the charged air around them and know whether she still uses the same shampoo that she used to. He breathes in through his nose to learn that yes, she does still use the lavender and vanilla one that she gets from a muggle shop.
She looks up at him, shame present in her wide eyes and flushed cheeks, and he looks down at her, patience and curiosity radiating from his face. He can see the decision being made inside her head, her eyes much too revealing of her thoughts. He doesn't break the silence, waiting for those thoughts to work their way through her head and eventually out of her mouth.
She holds eye contact with him, a heavy determination present behind her embarrassment, but she eventually gives in and breaks it, looking back down to her hands. "I don't-" she takes a breath. "I don't know."
He sighs a heavy, disappointed sigh and runs a hand through his hair. He takes a deep breath, accepting that he most likely won't be getting anything of meaning from her today. He still wants to give it one last try, though.
He uses the back of his bent forefinger to lift her chin again. "Really, Ev?" he asks even softer, searching her eyes and wordlessly begging for something. Anything. Anything to give him hope. "Nothing?"
She stares into his eyes, her expression fully unreadable now. It's as if she's shut out whatever she'd been thinking about before, whatever had caused that brief indecision to flit across her face.
She sighs and shakes her head. "No, Fred. I'm sorry. I really don't know."
He nods, accepting it, and takes a step back from her. He knows that he must just be imagining the way that her body seems to subconsciously chase after his for a moment before it sways back to her original spot.
He'll revisit the question again later; when he thinks she'll actually answer it. He just needs to wait. He needs to wait and he needs to keep trying to remind her just how perfect he is for her. It's just going to take some time.
It's silent for another moment before she speaks up. "I'm really sorry, Fred. Are you sure that you don't want me to go fix it? Or at least as best as I can?"
He looks into her eyes again, holding back an amused smile at how eager she seems to make it up to him. He could use this.
"No, Ev. I don't care about that. People are going to think what they want to think."
She nods and crosses her arms over her chest in the way that he knows means she still feels guilty. He wishes that he could lean forward and wrap his arms around her; make up in that simple, affectionate way that couples do after a fight. The kind with quiet "I'm sorry"s and "I love you"s. But sadly, that's not possible yet. He can't reach forward and wordlessly show her how little he cares about some rumor.
"You want to know how you can make it up to me, though?" he asks, smiling at her in a way that he hopes conveys that he's not truly upset with her.
She searches his face for a moment before nodding warily.
He chuckles and shakes his head at her before looking at her genuinely, a shy grin taking over his face. "Can we be friends?"
Her arms loosen in their hold around her upper body, but her face still looks wary. She ponders it for a moment, and he can tell that she's about to say no in the nicest way possible.
"Please?"
She remains silent, so he continues.
"Why does it have to be dating or nothing? Why can't we be friends, regardless of what our feelings are?" He asks her, trying to convince her with the earnestness in his eyes. "I miss just knowing you, Ev."
He's not lying about wanting to at least be friends, either. Sure, he'd love to immediately jump back into dating her again, but he knows that that's not an option right now. He understands that. If he can't have her in that way, though, he'd still like to have something. He'd like to have her in his life as much as he possibly can; in whatever way that she'll let him.
She still seems cautious when she nods her head slowly, but he'll take it. He beams a wide, pleased smile, already imagining all the things that he can do with her, just as a friend. He's been craving her presence for a while now, and he hopes that this will help that.
"Yeah?" he asks, not caring to hide his obvious joy.
She laughs that soft, amused laugh that makes his stomach explode in butterflies and nods. "Yeah," she says in the same soft, amused way.
Fuck. She's going to be the death of him. His urge to wrap his arms around her has not lessened; not one bit.
"Does this mean that you'll ease up on the flirting, then?" she adds on, a teasing but honest look on her face.
A grin takes over his face at the outright acknowledgment from the typically non-confrontational girl. He laughs. "Sure," he says in a way that makes it known that he is absolutely not sure.
She gives him an unamused look. "Fred," she says seriously, a pleading tone present if he searches deep enough.
He laughs again, this time quieter and with a hint of defeat. "We'll see." She shoots him another look. "I'll try."
She sighs but seems to take this as the best she's going to get, shaking her head at him and taking a step back. He takes this as his hint to leave, taking a couple of steps backward in the direction of the door.
"You know that I'm still fighting for you, though, right?" he asks, any trace of teasing in his voice gone. "That I'm not giving up?"
She stares at him with wide eyes, obviously not expecting those to be the words to leave his mouth. "Fred..." she says in that sympathetic tone that he knows he doesn't want to hear any more of.
"Night, Ev," he says with a soft but unbothered smile and promptly leaves.